Remember Me
by RedSinistaur07X
Summary: Warning - Rated M for gore, sex, adult themes and language. Don't read if you dislike M/M pairing. I needed to get this ship out on paper, so here. Price and Soap go together like cheese and crackers, but what happens when Soap dies? There is a medication that can bring him back, however he won't remember the past. What will Price do? Will Soap ever remember his true love?
1. Last Words

{{ So I got addicted to the Call of Duty series, and I'm in love with Captain Price/Captain MacTavish, and since there's such little fanfiction out there, I just had to write everything out and get this done. It starts off a bit dusty, but I swear, it will be amazing if you like this ship. I'm not even lying. Give it a go.}}

"P-Price…" Scarred lips trembled as they tried to force the words out.

"Soap, don't talk, just rest…" Price ordered, pressing against the younger soldier's chest; somehow maintaining pressure on several wounds. _How he hated multi-tasking. _But he'd **willingly** do it for his friend _**any day**__._

"_**Price…" **_Soap spoke again. However, the weakness in his voice foreshadowed nothing but disappointing outcomes.

This time, Price raised a brow. His delicate gaze softening as he acknowledged Soap's obvious plea for him to listen.

With a vague nod from Price, Soap used his last ounce of strength to carefully hold Price's collar, gripping tightly from the last surges of pain that struck his body. "_Makarov… knows… Yuri…"_

Price's eyes widened as he heard his friend's words. _What? But… how!?_ Thick eyebrows knitted together in a harsh frown as Soap began to go limp.

"_Y-You… need to know…" _The younger soldier muttered, trying to pull Price closer.

Obeying, the older man leant nearer. So much that he was almost on top of the wounded man. _It wouldn't be the first time…_ **Price. This was no time for dirty thoughts.** "Need to know what?"

Slow. That wasn't even the word to describe it. Painfully slow. Agonising torture. Price waited patiently for as long as a man could when his partner was dying. "_What do I need to know?"_

And in what seemed to be one of the most gentle, fragile whispers, Soap replied. _"I…I'm sorry."_

Surprised by the words, Price momentarily considered what Soap had to be sorry for. Had he done something? Had he said something?

The older man then felt something against his ear. Something familiar. It was the wonderful, steamy, hot breath that belonged to Soap; caressing the soft skin that covered his _lucky_ cheek. It could only mean one thing.

"_I l-love…I lo-" _MacTavish was interrupted as his internal systems began shutting down because of blood loss. His breath was growing short and raspy, a clear sign of panic causing his body to shiver and shake in the arms of his Captain.

Price whined, holding Soap closer; or as close as he could without injuring him further. _"You love what? Who?"_

Soap could only give a weak smile, before it faded into a painful, sad, lonely frown. _"I love…"_ the expression fell solid, like rock. The type of rock you knew would be lonely if it were alive. The type of rock that has lived for decades, having to watch its friends and family kicked around and thrown into the sea. His expression was one Price never wanted to see. Never wanted to witness. He could almost describe it as _dead. _

The younger soldier winced, lifting his gloved index finger to Price's chest, as if pointing at him. _You._

Then, Soap went numb. He gave a cough, allowing the darkness to truly take him as it swept over his mind. He'd always imagined death to be sweet, silent, and full of relief. Yet here he was, full of regret and pain, surrounded by the sound of bloodthirsty guns. _It was horrible._ Giving one last weak smile at Price, the younger soldier went still, his chest unmoving, his lips vaguely parted. The shaking had stopped, and the warm heat against Price's cheek had become an unknown presence.

"_No…"_ Price whimpered, gazing down at the lifeless body of his partner. Dare he say, _lover._ _"No… no, no, __**no, NO!**__" _His voice suddenly raised, shaky and full of anger. Frustration. _Sadness._ "_**SOAP! NO!**__" _

"I'm sorry, Price. He's gone. We have to go…" One of the men that had been watching from the shadows had now decided to appear, most definitely at the wrong time. He placed a hand on the Captain's shoulder, but Price growled, gripping said hand. "Get off me!" He demanded, shoving the man away from him.

_He's gone. He's really gone. _

Price bit his lower lip, trying to hold back any emotion as he pulled out the M4A1 pistol that sat in his back holster. With a slow, gentle movement, he placed the pistol on Soap's chest. A pistol full of many memories. Just above a heart so full of meaning.

_No more._

"_I'm sorry…"_ Price whispered, lowering his head onto Soap's shoulder, pressing an unseen kiss on the dead man's ear. _"I'm so sorry, Soap. __**I love you too**.__" _


	2. Memory 1

**_{{ Here's the next chapter }}_**

**_Memory 1._**

"It's _so _bloody _cold…_" Soap complained, dusting the snow from his boots so that it didn't melt in the tent and make a mess.

"Not complainin' again are y', Captain?" Ghost chuckled, his voice taut from the cold weather.

"Maybeh ah am, maybe ah'm not. It's none o' your concern," The man replied harshly. He would've said something 100% better than that, _if_ he wasn't _so cold._

Ghost could only hum, nudging Roach as the two giggled.

"Leave 'im alone you two. Just 'cause 'e's done eighty times more work than you today doesn't mean you can take the piss," Price interrupted, his voice a husky vibrato.

Soap smirked, shivering slightly. Price appreciated his work? What an honour.

"Hey!" Roach snapped.

Price glared in response, as if asking Roach if he really wanted to argue with his Captain.

"Uh… never mind…" The soldier stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't have anything to say anyway…" He grumbled.

Ghost snickered, nudging Roach.

"What's so funny, skull face?" Roach growled.

"_**Skull face?**__ Oh_ it's _on_!" Ghost gripped Roach by the shoulder as he got to his feet, dragging his victim out of the tent for some form of a beating.

Rolling his eyes, Soap grunted. _"Kids…"_ he complained, laying himself down so that he could rest his head on his pillow. The low snort of his Captain brought Soap's closed eyes back open. "What?" He questioned.

"Nothing," Price replied, his gaze full of amusement as it settled on the younger man's face.

"No, go on, y'may as well tell meh. It's not like we've got anythin' else t' talk about."

Price sighed. "You really do complain a lot, mate," he grinned.

"I learnt from the best," Soap smirked.

"Hey!" The older man snorted again, defensive, yet knowing Soap was completely right.

"Yee know I'm right, Cap'n," Soap shrugged.

"Yeah…" Price nodded, fixing the hat that sat on his head. "As if I'd admit i' though."

Soap let out a breath, raising a brow at the silence. Their team was isolated, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by snow, ice, and danger. It wasn't a silence of comfort, either. It was the wilderness' orchestra, playing like violins in a horror movie, waiting for the sudden terror to come crashing down like the beat of a drum or triangle.  
He could feel himself shivering again, which was slightly embarrassing. He came across as this strong, capable man, yet here he was, unable to keep even _himself_ warm. He bet Price wasn't _amused _like he claimed to be, only humoured by his soldier's pathetic inabilities. Awkwardly, he scratched at the side of his face, closing his eyes in an attempt to eliminate the discomfort between them. Soap didn't understand why he felt uncomfortable. After all, both he and Price were very _close_. They'd been through hell together; they'd seen almost everything the world had to offer. Although now that he'd thought about it, he hadn't seen all Price himself had to offer. Nor had Price seen everything Soap had to offer. Good friends had their limits though, right? Grunting, Soap clung to the thin, cotton blanket that lay shrivelled beside him, and hugged it close for warmth.

"You cold?" The older voice once again spoke out.

Soap rolled his eyes. _Hadn't they just had this conversation?_ "Christ Price, your age is gettin' the better of y'," he smirked teasingly.

Price scowled. "How so?" He clearly didn't get the joke, which was unusual.

Raising a brow, Soap bit his lower lip. In fact, during the past few weeks, Price had become seemingly stubborn with him. Yes, they still had their banter, and their cocky teasing sessions, however lately, Price seemed rather vacant in come backs. Whenever Soap turned to give his Captain some sort of grin, wink or even a general glance to check for a reaction of some kind, Price would turn heads suspiciously swiftly. As if he didn't want to see Soap, or speak to him. They kept having awkward silences, and Soap often found his Captain staring at him, lost in thought. The younger soldier threw a glance at his Captain, eyeing him. Just as expected, the older man was staring at him, like a mother over her child's crib; his eyes full of solemn and frustration. "We literalleh had the _cold _conversation about _five minutes ago…_" He answered bitterly.

"Ah, right, sorry. My uh, my mind's elsewhere at the moment, Mate."

That was it? _That was it?_ No scolding for being cocky? No _'cheeky bastard'_, or _'I'm not old'?_ Huh.

Soap blinked, pushing himself up, leaning on one arm as he glanced about the tent. It was clean, cleaner than expected, what with having a group of four men living in such a tight space. "Are ye alright, Cap'n?"

In silence, Price merely nodded as he eyed his Soldier's face.

Soap, unconvinced, rolled his eyes again before turning his attention to the bleeping phone beside him.

Price bit his left inner cheek. His eyes drifted from Soap's face, down to his shoulders, allowing his gaze to fall to the man's arm that he leant on. Really, Price was always fascinated by Soap's muscles; e_specially _his _arms._  
_'He must've worked __**hard**__ for those…'_ The way they were _shaped... _He remembered their first meeting, when Soap joined the SAS, and had removed his shirt before entering the shower. _His abs… his arms… his shoulders…__his __**neck…**__  
_Perhaps it was the isolation of the mountain, or that he spent so much time with _men._ There was always something about Soap. From their first meeting, to the progress the young soldier made just to impress and help out his superior, to _**now**__._ Price had never met anyone who could sport a mohawk so well. In fact, it actually looked _good_ on him. It made him look even _better_, if he was to be honest. Shaking his head, Price rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath, trying to eliminate all the thoughts that shat on his aching brain. He realised he was still staring, but Soap was too focussed on the phone for him to notice, fortunately. "Something wrong?" He inquired, trying to slice through the silence.

"Nah, it's just buggin' out," he replied sharply, his eyebrows furrowed. _It was like smiling made you colder._

"It's probably the cold," Price stated.

"No shite. It ruins _everythin'._ When are we goin' t' move out? I'm freezin' m' bloody tits off sittin' 'ere…"

Price allowed his lips to curve upwards into a smirk. "What did I say about complainin'?"

Soap turned his head, acknowledging the comment, before chuckling. "Right, right, sorry." Price was right, too often was he a drag. "Les be honest though, there's not _much_ t' be _positive_ about though, is there?"

"Eh, at least try and find something…"

"Like what?"

"I don't bloody know. I've given you a suggestion, now shut it and find something…" Price said.

Anyone else who didn't know Price all that well would've been offended, but not Soap. No, in fact, Soap knew he was teasing him. Price had a specific tone when being serious, and his current one was more playful. He knew from the gentle rippled in his words. "Relax, Old man, wouldn't want you to wear yourself out," he hummed.

Price paused, grunting a chuckle before falling silent again.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Soap gave up on communication and turned his back to the older man, hoping to get some rest. Maybe **sleep** would **numb** this _damned cold!_  
Shifting around a few times, he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, cerulean eyes flittering shut as he tried to relax so that sleep could steal him. He gave an irritated growl with each shiver his body gave. He _knew _he was cold; his body didn't need to _remind _him! Movement could soon be heard beside him, but he was too tired to look for the source, so he just ignored it. Slowly, his muscles began to relax. That was until he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his waist, almost causing him to shoot into the air. However, said arms held him close and tightly, and he was unable to escape. "What teh-"

"Calm the bloody hell down!" Price's husky voice could be _felt_ beside his ear, and almost immediately he went lax.

Soap frowned to himself, before freezing up again. W_hat the fuck was his Captain __**doing**__? _  
"_P-Price!? What-what are ye doin'!?"_ Soap wriggled in attempt to gain freedom. Not that he didn't like the hold his Captain had on him, but the surprise was overwhelming.

"_Shh_," Price hushed, nuzzling his face into Soap's neck. Had the cold truly gotten the better of him? To the point where he had latched onto one of his men to keep warm? He was certain his loneliness was linked in with that somewhere, not to mention the unbelievable frustration he felt whenever he _looked_ at Soap. Why? He wasn't actually sure. Who understands feelings these days…? "I'm keeping us warm, you muppet, what did you think I was doing?"

The younger soldier flinched at the hush, going still as he craned his neck in an attempt to look at the other's expression. "O-oh… uh, nothin', Ey jus'… nothin'…" He breathed, trying to calm himself. Price's bristly beard grazed the bare skin at the back of his neck, causing him to shiver, but not from the cold. "Erm, thanks…"

Price took his chance, hoping the 'friendly act' would cover any suspicions as he exhaled against Soap's neck, holding back a smirk when the man squirmed beneath him, letting out a low, quiet whimper. Feeling somewhat successful in whatever field, Price pulled Soap closer (if that was possible) to his chest, so that he could snuggle into the sweet scented mass of warmth that was Soap MacTavish. "Don't get soppy, Mate, I'm just cold," he grumbled into the other's ear, before closing his eyes. It didn't take long for the two to drift off into a deep sleep, finally warm, and at peace.

As _perfect_ as sleep _could_ _be_.


	3. Memory 2

{{ Here's the second chapter. Please R&amp;R, tell me what you thought. Hope you enjoy }}

_**Memory 2.**_

"We 'ave three different rooms. So, Ghost and Roach in one, Yuri in the other, and Captain MacTavish and I shall share," Price announced. Beside him, stood his other Captain, Soap MacTavish, and in front were Ghost, Roach, and Yuri.

Yuri raised a brow. "Permission to speak, Captain Price?"

"Go a'ead," Price confirmed.

"Perhaps I should share a room wit' the ozher two? If anyone is to share, surely it should be uz?" Yuri gestured to himself and the other two.

"Your mind is in the right place, Yuri, and your consideration is much appreciated, but I've 'ad t' share wiv them two before, and I know what it's like." With a grin, Price shrugged. "I won't put you through that."

Although no one could see Ghost's expression, it was obvious he wasn't happy with Price's words. Not that he'd argue though. No, he didn't feel like getting an ass kicking today.

Roach nodded. "I'm cool with that."

"Good. Now, go sort 'em out. And if I see a single speck of dirt, I'll kill you myself," Price threatened.

Roach could only laugh. Ghost glared at him and he shrugged. "What? I have this nickname for a reason, y'know?" He grunted before turning and leaving. Ghost followed, leaving an awkward Yuri staring at the two. It was only a few seconds though before he too turned and left for his room.

"Er, Cap'n, are ye sure we're allow'd t' share a room?" Soap inquired.

"O's gonna know?" Price raised a brow, giving a small smirk before making his way to the bedroom.

Reluctantly, Soap followed, his eyes taking in the dull surroundings. It wasn't long before his gaze had dropped onto Price's ass. Each step the man took, his rounded rear moved in such a way that Soap questioned whether Price was lying about his age. Either that or he had a really good ass for an _old man._

"Enjoyin' the view?" Price grinned smugly over his shoulder, noting the direction of Soap's gaze.

Snapping from his thoughts, Soap suddenly glared at his Superior, rendered speechless by that _stupid grin._ "Nah, I'm not fond of small girl asses," Soap shrugged.

Price's grin faltered, Soap's snide comment having caught him off guard. Grumbling, he turned his gaze away and fell silent, undoubtedly sulking.

They reached the bedroom, and cautiously entered. Working in the SAS caused you to be safe wherever you went. You got so used to _seeing_ enemies everywhere, that it became a necessity to _check_ everywhere. Sighing, Soap removed the boots that hung loosely on his foot, allowing his well-built body to just collapse onto the soft bed.

Price snickered, their past conversation seeming to have been forgotten as he too climbed onto the double bed. He removed his boonie hat and placed it on the table beside the bed. Groaning, he stretched his arms out, followed by his legs, before turning to face Soap who had his eyes conveniently shut.

The younger man's arms lay by his sides, the right one further away from his body, and within Price's reach. With determined eyes, Price scanned over the soldier's body, observing how his chest moved with each breath, and how his eyelids flickered because he wasn't actually asleep, but merely 'resting his eyes'. The older man eyed Soap's arms, admiring their perfect shape, along with his skilfully chiselled abs that showed through his tight, white tee.

Although his eyes were shut, Soap could feel his Captain's presence beside him, and could certainly feel him staring. However, he didn't want to open his eyes, as he knew it would be awkward. _But it would be amusing too!_ Soap tried to hold back the giant, knowing grin that so badly wanted to form on his lips as his eyes slowly blinked open, his gaze snapping to the right, meeting Price's. _'He was so staring at me!'_ He thought. _'Hide the grin. Remain oblivious.'_ "What?" Soap raised a brow, as if he didn't know anything.

In Price's eyes, Soap could see the slip of panic as he tried to maintain himself to some degree. "You sleep like a little girl," Price recovered quickly.

"And you'd know how a little girl sleeps, _how_?" Soap smirked.

"I haven't seen, but I can imagine."

"That is just _sick_," Soap remarked. He was more prepared than Price today. Usually Price beat him to the floor with come backs and snarky remarks, however, not today.

"Eugh, shut it wise guy."

"Callin' me wise now, aye?"

"Wise _guy_. Yeh. You seen 'em in movies before? They're the ones who usually get their asses kicked by bein' too cocky."

"_Usualleh? That's _not vereh promisin'."

Price merely squinted at his friend. "Asshole."

"Don't be like that, Price. At least tell meh I won first."

"You didn't."

"Oh c'mon, ey so did." Soap playfully nudged Price's shoulder, earning a hard glare.

Price shook his head, once again sulking. He closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat like a grumpy child.

Soap watched him carefully, only grinning when the man shut his eyes. Watery, azure eyes took in the detail of Price's face. Sure, he was well accustomed to seeing it now, but because he wasn't wearing his beloved boonie hat, said details were a lot more visible now. Although rather wrinkled, Soap didn't view his Captain's body nor face as _old_. Merely crumpled from the constant frown he wore. His lips were scarred and tinted red. Dark, brown, short hair covered his head, bristly and rough like his untrimmed beard. Bushy eyebrows enhanced his gaze, which made his expressions either furious, emotionless, or extremely seductive. There never seemed to be a _happy_ expression with him. This was relatively good, as Soap didn't have one either. That was one of the reasons they got along so well.  
Price wore a black tee and green cargo pants that were rather baggy on his skinny form. However the tee clung perfectly to his fit chest and shoulders, exaggerating certain muscles that Soap wasn't aware his superior had. As his eyes roamed up and down his friend's figure, he gently bit his lower lip in thought, making mental notes on different areas that weren't usually as exposed as they were right now. No, he wasn't weird like Price, who just enjoyed eyeing people up. He was an artist, and he was _so_ going to draw his Captain. It was more of a side hobby, seeing as he wasn't able to do anything else. Soap was extremely self-conscious over his art, and even though they were little sketches, those that did see them thought they were outstanding. He didn't care. He just enjoyed doing it. He drew for pleasure, not money or compliments. The young soldier kept his journal in his left, rear pocket, for both easy access and protection. It wasn't just for writing, you know? He had his secrets in there too.

Just then, Soap tried to stifle a snicker as Price began to quietly snore. _'He'd fallen asleep?'_ He grinned, shaking his head in amusement as he eyed Price's arms. They flopped to his sides, the right one hanging off the side of the bed, the left one within reaching distance of Soap. And with all his courage, he mustered a weak smile, feeling a wave of safety flood over him. As if, in Price's presence, nothing bad could happen. Soap eyed the hand before him, and with a quiet sigh, he took it in his own, nestling closer to his Captain, before shutting his eyes. It didn't take long for him to drift off into a deep sleep, in the hands of his superior.

_Literally_.


	4. Memory 3

{{ Wew, okay, here's the next chapter. Pre-Warning, this is FILLED with language and sexual content. Try to keep cool whilst reading ;D }}

**_Memory 3_**

Sapphire eyes shimmered curiously in the light as they glanced around for his white towel. "Aha, there y'are y' bugger…" He said, approaching his door. The cotton towel hung from the door, undoubtedly put there by Price. His Captain _hated_ dirty clothes being on the floor. Price had what you would call OCD with possessions and their cleanliness. Soap didn't mind though, it wasn't something that bothered him, nor did he think it _should._  
Taking the towel in bandaged hands, he turned and exited the room. Enroute to the shower, he said good morning to both Roach and Ghost, however he didn't see Yuri or Captain Price. Yuri, he wasn't too concerned about. He didn't particularly like the Russian anyway. Captain Price however, was a different matter. It was almost a surge of worry that over took him.

'_I'll look later. He's probably in the kitchen or some shite. Christ, when did I get so fuckin' paranoid about 'im?' _

"How are y' hands?" Ghost inquired, pointing at the bandaged limbs.

"Fuckin' sore, like always," Soap replied.

"They'll heal," Roach reassured.

"Thanks, Roach. _I wasn't aware of tha',"_ Soap scowled.

Roach frowned, turned, and left, whispering something about waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

"What's got you so pisseh?" Ghost tilted his head, his expression suspicious.

"Sometimes I just wish you'd keep that bloody mask on and never speak…"

"Hey, I'm bein' nice to you. Don't be such a bitch," Ghost growled.

"Sorreh. I'm just… tired. Y'know how that goes."

"Mm," Ghost gave a hum, raising a brow. "Well, go have your shower. Maybe it'll make you feel better, somewhat."

"Yeah… yeah…" Waving a bandaged hand, Soap moved further down the corridor. He looked down at his hands, frowning.

It was about four weeks since the incident. And what a fucked up incident it was.  
Soap was abducted by an enemy team and was interrogated. _It was more like torture._

* * *

:::"Who do you work for!?" The Russian snarled, literally spitting each word.

"I cannot answer that," Soap replied, groaning at the handcuffs that tried so desperately to suffocate and strangle his wrists. He was cuffed to what looked like a table, however said table was covered in blood. The whole shack he was in looked like something that belonged to an evil butcher that captured people, chopped them up and then hung their limbs with rope. Blood splattered the wooden walls and stone flooring, and the strong scent of death, vomit and sweat filled the putrid air.

Soap was brought back from his foul thoughts when a knife was slammed down beside his hand. "_Fuck…" _Soap cursed, scowling up at the Russian who drooled at the mouth. If the Captain didn't know any better, he'd say the prick had rabies or some shite.

"_What is your name!?"_ The man pulled the knife from the table and slowly, torturously dragged the blunt side across MacTavish's hand.

"Sergeant MacTavish," Soap responded. He wasn't a Sergeant, he was a Captain. But Soap knew that if he'd told the Russian that, it would've put him in a much more dangerous position. The enemy would've known Soap held some value, and would've killed him on the spot, or dragged out the torture.

"Pathetic," the Russian mocked. "You call yourself a Scotsman? I've seen bunny rabbits with more feist than _you_."

Soap grimaced. "And I've met dogs with better manners than ye. Didn't yer mother ever teach ye not t' drool?"

The Russian howled angrily before lifting the sharp blade that had been caressing Soap's hand as if a friend. It was no longer a friend. A loud cry of pain burst from Soap's lips as the blade pierced his hand. The knife went completely through his left hand, and hit the table with a thud. _"Fuuuuuuuuuuckkk!"_ Soap roared. _"C'mon y' bastard! Is that all you've got!? Fuckin' pusseh! That's nothin'!"_

The knife was removed, and Soap winced, hoping it was finished; but it was _far_ from _over._ Again, the Russian slammed the knife into Soap's left hand, before pulling it out a second time. This repeated several other times, and only when Soap begged for no more did the enemy stop. Tears threatened to taint his scarred cheeks, but he stubbornly refused them. The only sounds that could now be heard were the soft, agonised whimpers that left MacTavish, along with his heavy, ragged breaths. _"Shite… oh fuck, fuck, fuck…"_ He whined, looking to where the pain emitted from. His left hand was covered in blood. _His _blood. He couldn't see the stab marks in his hand because of his red, blurry vision, however he knew they were bad, as the pain in his hand suddenly went numb, and he couldn't move it.

"Are you going to comply?" The Russian scowled, his accent thick and mocking.

Soap merely lowered his head, avoiding eye contact with everything but the floor as he ignored the stream of angry curses that left the enemy. Then, he felt more pain. The dreaded knife was back, however this time, in his right hand. The process began again, stab after stab, scream after scream… the numbness came over his newly injured right hand just as it did the left, and he felt weak, and suddenly very tired. As his sight began to go dark, he could hear something outside the shack.

"In here!" A familiar voice shouted.

"Captain…P-Price…" Soap whined, shaking his head softly.

"_No one's coming to save you," _The Russian growled, delivering a harsh kick to Soap's side, causing him to shout out again.

"Soap!?" Price's voice could be heard coming closer now. Then, the door was broken down. "Soap!? _Shit_!"

"That is _fucked up_!" Roach's voice could be heard, followed by a gunshot. The only thing Soap saw was the figure of the Russian fall beside him, dead. Then, his vision went black. :::

* * *

Price had saved him, bandaged his wounds, and brought him back. _Price had saved his life_. On more than one occasion, actually. He was Soap's Guardian angel; something like that.  
Whatever made it sound less soppy.

Although the medic had managed to fix Soap's hands, they needed a few months to properly heal, meaning he couldn't use them at all, or at least for _most things._

Soap, at first, didn't think there'd be any issues with that. However, he was soon proven wrong, when he had specific _'needs' _he had to take care of. _Manly needs._ Of course, doing things such as masturbating was virtually _impossible_ when your hands were fucked. Meaning he'd gone just over four weeks without any type of pleasure. And even when he was _determined _and _more desperate than you can imagine_, he still couldn't handle it, no matter how badly he needed to… _release._

His hands were currently the reason he was so angry all the time. He was easily infuriated, and when he wanted something doing, he wasn't able to do it. So he'd ask someone else to do it, and they'd question him. _'Just fuckin' do it!'_ He remembered saying to Roach who asked why Soap wanted him to type up some information.

Merely the memory of the recent past made him frustrated, and it was his own fault that got him captured. He just wasn't fast enough. He didn't move quickly enough. He _failed._ He _disappointed Price._ He _disappointed everyone._ It was nothing but pain and guilt he felt now about the whole bloody situation. And somehow, the guilt was worse than the pain.

Soap was rather glad when he'd reached the shower. He could just relax now. There was no need to worry about anything, and he need not worry about anyone bothering him. Well, that _was_ his first thought, however that seemed to alter when he heard one of the showers turn on in the shower room. Rolling his eyes, Soap groaned in complaint. _Really? But no one __**ever**__ uses the shower room! _Well, no one except him and Price.

'_If it's Ghost or Roach, I bloody swear I'm goin' without a shower…' _

Placing a stiff hand on the handle, he pulled it down and entered the room. However, as he tried to look for the source of the sound and who was beneath it, his sight was compromised by the thick, steamy mist that clouded the room.  
"When did these wash racks get so bloody misteh?" He called out, listening for a response. He could now see a figure in the near distance, below a shower, gazing his way.

"Because it keeps the room bloody warm. I 'ate havin' cold showers," The thick British accent that responded eased his concern.

_Huh._ "Ah, _Price_, it's just ye."

"The one and only," Price replied, cockiness in his tone.

Rolling his eyes, Soap rubbed his chin. "Mind if I join ye?"

"Doesn't bother me."

Soap nodded, approaching the bench that sat in the corner of the room. He first tugged off his t-shirt, throwing it onto the wooden seat, followed by his cargo pants. He was left standing in the mist in his boxers, _but at least it wasn't cold._ Sighing, he quickly removed his boxers and wrapped the towel around his waist. He then saw the boonie hat that sat on the bench beside Soap's, and he couldn't help but chuckle. Soap then began removing the bandages that clung tightly to his hands, giving a few stiff whimpers in the process as said bandages unstuck from the healing cuts.

Price shut his eyes, smiling to himself as he felt the shower's warm water pelt down onto his dirty skin. He massaged the body wash into his aching chest and arms, his thoughts holding him in some sort of trance. It wasn't until he heard a few stifled and pained grunts that his attention was put on the figure in the shower behind him. Price turned, raising a brow when he saw Soap trying to pick the wash up with his elbows. Holding back a chuckle, Price's gaze accidently caught sight of Soap's arm muscles, and he lost all concentration as he traced the muscles to the younger man's shoulders, then down his back, and before he could get a glimpse of his ass, the steam from his shower blocked the delightful view.

Hold on. Was he _staring?_ Price shook his head, hoping it was just the heat from the shower making him delirious. Quietly grumbling, he rubbed his eyes a few times and drove away the desperate, shell shocked expression he had. _Damn… _"Soap…" He called out.

The younger soldier stood silent for a moment before he turned his head to look at his Captain. It was then that Price was hit with that…_feeling_ again! That…_heat!_ Seeing Soap's abs made him internally die, and the water drops that elegantly dripped from his well-structured face down onto his perfectly chiselled chest before bouncing off? _Holy fucking shit._

"Cap'n?" Soap raised a brow. It was adorable how he was still trying to maintain a grip on the body wash, failing like before.

Price was aware that once again, he was staring. Giving a grunt, he lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you need some 'elp?"

Suddenly, Soap grew rather nervous. He kept shifting stance, and developed some kind of shaky stutter. "I-I-uh-I don't-uhm, nah, it's uh, fine Cap'n, uhm, thank you for the offer, but uh, I'm fine, thanks…"

Something about being rejected didn't satisfy Price. Whatever the reason, he didn't care. He could see Soap was struggling, and wanted to help. Besides… _it'd give him an excuse to feel some of those god-like muscles!_

Quickly, Soap turned back to face his shower, still attempting to pick the wash up. Once he had it in his hand, he went to open the lid, only to drop it. _"For fuck's sake!"_ He growled in complaint. _"This is bullshite! I just want to fuckin' wash!"_

As he went to bend down, he was aware of another figure beside him, and jumped back against the wall when he found the figure to be _Price_.  
Silently, the older man bent down and picked the wash up, offering a friendly smile.

"Don't _do_ tha'!" Soap frowned, feeling nervous that he was so close to his Captain. And _naked._

"Do what?" Price asked, oblivious.

"Scare m' like tha'…" A hand gently made its way through its owner's mohawk.

Price couldn't help but chuckle. "Sorry, mate. Now, stop whining and let me 'elp you."

Soap gave another whine and stumbled back against the wall. "Ey said it's fine, Price…"

The older man shook his head. "I'm not gonna bloody stand there and watch you struggle. It's not like I'm gonna hurt you, anyway."

Knowing he would be too stubborn to give up, Soap gave a shrug and nodded. "Okay, fine…" The Scotsman positioned his arms against the wall, leaning against it. The concrete was cool against his heated skin, and he gave a relaxed breath when he felt his Captain's hands on his back.

Price smirked to himself, wasting no time in putting some of the wash on his hands. He then placed said hands straight on the other's back, massaging softly into the tense muscles, scrubbing off sweat and dirt. The quiet whimpers that left Soap suggested he was doing a good job with the wash, only causing Price to grin at his work. He moved his hands to the younger man's neck, slowly working from the other's shoulders, down to his waist. Price started to massage Soap's abs, when he felt the heat overwhelm him again. Giving a low grunt, Price tried to cover his arousal with a conversation. "I can _feel_ your tension, MacTavish. _Relax…"_

Soap, on the other hand, was quite the opposite to how confident Price was. Oh how he hated being so self- conscious about his body. Price was probably laughing at his skinniness, or at how flat his ass was or whatever else there was to pick on. Frowning, Soap pressed his forehead against the wall, arching into the friendly touch. Soon, his tension started to disappear, and for some reason, a new feeling started to eat him up. He could feel his body tingling, his head dizzy, his legs shaky… Was he… was he getting _aroused?_ No, no, no, _no…_ This couldn't be happening _now!_ The Scotsman bit his lower lip, wanting to run away from the current predicament. He'd been so stressed from the irrelevant shite going on in his head, that he'd forgotten who was _massaging_ his _body_! In a sudden fit of panic, he went tense again. Price immediately noticed.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" The Brit scowled, however his hands never stopped working on the other's hips.

"Nothin', nothin', ey'm sorreh…" Soap muttered, lowering his head. _'Stop eht, Soap. You're gonna give it awaeh…'_ Soap craned his neck slightly, glancing at the figure behind him, and how _close_ it was. _Abs._ That was all he could see, abs and a _gorgeous chest._ The Scotsman's eyebrows furrowed at the _glorious_ sight! He was _right!_ Price _did_ have a _beautiful body!_  
It was then that his mind thought it was a good idea to start forming secret fantasies and ignored desires into images. Soap shook his head, trying to stop himself from picturing such _erotic, no, hot, **no**, **WRONG**_ things! Okay, maybe he had a _slight_ crush on his Captain. Hell, maybe even _more_ than a crush! But if Price didn't like him _back_… _oh Christ._ What had he gotten himself into?

Price exhaled, his hot breath barely grazing the soft skin on Soap's back as he massaged down the Scotsman's hips, his hands slowly approaching the other's thighs. Once he'd conquered that part, his hands slipped to the insides of said thighs, moving back up towards his groin. Price, by now, had drifted back into his trance, letting arousal grip him by the balls. He bit his lower lip as he worked his way up to Soap's privates, however, his fantasy had abruptly stopped when Soap flinched, standing up right.

The younger man snapped around to face his superior, a vulgar, red blush becoming apparent on both cheeks. "C-Cap'n, I… I'm sorry I-…" The poor soldier could hardly speak. He let out a few whimpered stutters, obviously terrified of his own feelings.

Price knew what he had to do. He knew that he had to take the lead. Even if Soap didn't hold feelings for him, he _had _to just _find out!_ He'd waited long enough. _Watched_ long enough. He had been so. _Fucking. __**Patient.**__  
_"_Shh,"_ Price whispered, pressing Soap against the wall.  
Frankly, Soap looked positively _hot _amidst his panic. The general worry that swept over his face was enough to arouse any man, gay or not. Especially since he was so _handsome!  
_Price wrapped his arms around the Scot's waist, pulling him against his body. He pressed his face into the other's neck, inhaling the cologne that drove him _crazy_, peppering the man's skin with soft kisses. Rough hands gripped at the younger man's chest, feeling every inch of every muscle, the contact making him so very heated.

Soap let out a whimper as he was pressed against the wall, but feeling Price against him made him go lax. _"F-Fuck…"_ He groaned, tilting his head to one side, shivering against his superior's delightful frame. The kisses he could **_barely_ **handle, but when Price's hands started to drift lower onto his abdomen, just above his groin, he started to moan out.

Price adjusted himself so that Soap's lips pressed against his neck, supressing any noise the man tried to make. Oh, the scene was _so arousing._ Price had difficulty not pushing Soap onto his hands and knees _there and then._ "_I take it, you're alright w-hn-with me doin' this, Soap? After all, it's not… like you're…eugh… resisting…"_

Soap merely whimpered in response, giving a gentle nod.

_Good,_ thought Price. Once Soap's neck was lavished by the older man's kisses, he moved his lips up to his soldier's right ear, nibbling and licking at the lobe; exhaling hot air against it. _"I don't think you want to know how many __**times**__ I've fantasised about this…"_ Price groaned, pressing harder against Soap.

The younger soldier was suddenly overwhelmed with some sort of _happiness_. Perhaps it was because Price had used the word _fantasise_ (near enough). Surely meaning he liked him back? Right? _Right?_ Soap tilted his head back, shuddering helplessly. _"P-Price… oh… **shite**…"_ Momentarily, he thought this was going to be it. He thought this would be _all there was to enjoy_. But he took that thought back when he felt Price's knee graze up his leg and rub against his hard member, earning a low, needy groan from Soap.

"_Someone's been neglecting himself…" _Price purred, licking his dry lips as he continued rubbing against the erect appendage.

Soap scowled at the man against him, azure eyes meeting ocean blue, their gaze intense, lustful and needy. "As if I can fuckin' do tha' with these…" the soldier held his hands up nervously, wincing when the water hit them.

Price only gave one of his seductive smirks, taking Soap's hands in his own, before showering them with soft, fragile kisses.

Now, to anyone else, that would seem a rather strange move to make, however, to Soap, it was _so very romantic _and _caring._ "_Shite…"_ Soap whined, biting his lower lip, like an innocent school girl as he leaned into the dominating body. The knee rubbed over his groin again, and Soap gritted his teeth, his moans suggesting more pain than pleasure now. "_Stop teasing… fuck, just… eugh, I'm so sick of being teased! I don't even care if you're gettin' turned on by this, I just- can't…" _He paused, giving another low moan. "_I haven't had a release in __**weeks**__, Price!" _He stated quietly, as if admitting a secret. "_I can't… hold on much longer… p-please, hn…"_

Price grinned, nipping at the other's earlobe again, whispering words of pleasure into the fair skinned ear. Once he got a few more groans from Soap, Price pressed harder against him. "_You'd better keep them moans quiet, __**Soap**__, cause from what I recall, that door's not locked,"_ he gestured to the room's entrance. _"And from the noises you're makin', someone might come lookin'. We wouldn't want that, would we, __**mate**__?"_

Price knew how to torture someone; too well, in fact. Soap shuddered, biting at his Captain's neck in attempt to stifle his moans. "_Stop d-doin' tha'…" _he managed to quietly gasp out, trying to manoeuvre his leg to push Price's away, although it backfired, and he ended up spreading his legs more by accident.

"_You just can't wait, can you?"_ Price smirked, licking along Soap's jawline. "_I've gotta say, I've always wanted to see you spread your legs for me…"_

"_Price!"_

"_Hm?"_

"Do I 'ave t' bloody _beg_ for it? Stop teasin'! I can't stand it! Just-eugh, _please…"_

"Please what, _Mate?_"

The way he lowered his voice on 'Mate' and 'Soap' caused the younger man to groan, as if instinct. If Price had that effect on him, what effect could _he _have on _Price?_ With a sly smirk, Soap tilted his head forwards slightly, leaning closer to Price. Before the older man had time to process what was happening, Soap pressed his lips against his superior's, moaning into the softness. _"Hnnnnnn, Priiiiiiice~"_ The Scotsman purred lowly, his Scottish accent suddenly thick with arousal and lust.

Oh, that was _it._ Price couldn't tease any longer. He just… _that __**voice! **_"You _really_ know how to get what you want, don't you, sweet'eart," he breathed, slowly getting to his knees. Without warning, he gripped the erection before him and slowly began pumping it in his hand. The Brit groaned, pressing hard kisses at the slit of the other's cock, tongue caressing the head of the length as his hand worked up and down.

Soap threw his head back, biting on his lower lip, hard enough to cause it to bleed. _"Fuck!"_ He cursed, trying not to scream. The long lost feeling of pleasure was back, brought on by the one who he wanted most. The pressure then disappeared, his climax unreached and aching. "Wh-Wha-P-Price?" Was all he could manage, glancing down at the man who was getting back to his feet.

The older man merely licked his fingers, giving a seductive smirk as he pointed at the ground, rubbing his own erection. "On your ass, Soldier. _Now."_

Soap didn't think he'd responded to something so quickly in his entire life. He almost dropped to the floor, his back pressed to the ground as Price straddled him. He watched as Price neared his face, the man's hands gripping at his jaw as he was pulled into a heated kiss, the water pouring over them like rain in a romantic scene. His first instinct was to open his legs wider, giving Price the perfect view before he tightly wrapped his legs around his Captain's waist. _"Priiiiceee~"_ He groaned, hips bucking slightly in invitation.

And _how_ Price _**accepted**__._  
Taking a finger, he pressed it to Soap's entrance, slowly pushing in. No way was he going to go straight in, otherwise he'd hurt his partner. Fitting in another two fingers, Price groaned at how his fingers were enveloped into walls of rippling heat. _"Shit, you are so__** tight**__!" _Price stated, his tone low and husky.

"_Sorry…" _Soap apologized.

"No, don't apologize, _I like it~_" The older man removed his fingers, once he thought Soap was accustomed to the feeling of being filled, taking his member in one hand before slowly pressing it against Soap's entrance, pushing in, receiving a low, heavy groan from said Soldier.

"Shite Price, just, hurry up… if we get caught I fuckin' swear-"

"_Shh…"_ Price growled, letting out a deep groan when he was completely seated. Then, he slowly pulled back out. He repeated the process a few times, before his rhythm and pace picked up to a faster beat, their groans and grunts silenced by the showers.

Price found himself held captive by Soap's fantastic eyes. The younger man's eyes were a mysterious azure colour, yet there was a cobalt haze that if spotted, could almost turn you to stone. Never in his life had Price seen such a beautiful mix of strong blues. And now, he could really pay attention to them; _in detail._ Giving a few low grunts, Price's hands gripped at Soap's hips, almost _pulling_ the younger man onto him.

The feeling of Soap's pre-fluids and hardened length rubbing against his abdomen, the pressure and tightness Soap's walls created as they engulfed Price's own arousal, and the glorious scent of Soap's natural musk as well as his manly cologne made the older man's senses heightened to something that made him feel _invincible._

Bright eyes, the colour of the Caribbean's ocean, examined every visible detail on the Scot's body. From how his body would cease up and go rigid with each thrust from Price before relaxing again, to how his legs slowly tried to sneak their way up Price's rear and around his waist. The adorable, hot, attractive facial expressions that went from lust, to pain, to pleasure, to desperation, to a form of coyness, and complete bliss. Price noted how Soap's lower lip innocently quivered with each whimper, whine and cry he gave, making him just that little bit more adorable.  
_"If I'd 'ave known you'd pull such **delicious** faces, I would've re-hn-considered…"_ He allowed his jaw to slack slightly, his ocean blue eyes fluttering at the sight.

The Scotsman gave a small frown, unsure whether to view the remark as offensive, or a compliment. It was difficult to tell when you were pinned to the floor, being fucked like no tomorrow. With thoughts all over the place, Soap managed to give a weak tremble of a smile before rolling his eyes back, letting out a low wail as Price hit some sort of sensitive area. _"Fuck!"_ The man groaned, his injured hands suddenly shooting up to grip as Price's hair, rubbing said limbs against the older man's face, fighting the urge to feel the bristly beard against his wounds. Perhaps it was just one of the many kinky thoughts that came to mind, and although he wanted to, he fought the urge, in case Price didn't like it. After all, Soap was so desperate to please his Captain, he did everything the man told him to do, whenever he wanted it to be done. Whimpering, he glanced down at his throbbing length and bit his lip at the sight. Even if he tried to satisfy the need, he'd just make a fool out of himself. After all, he couldn't jerk off with injured hands, and with the thought in mind, his eyebrows furrowed and he was suddenly filled with frustration.

Price noticed the sudden anger within his partner's expression and exhaled heavily, trying to regain control of his voice as he questioned the emotion. _"What's wrong? Not goin' t-too f-fast for you, am…I?"_

Soap gave a firm shake of his head, his hips having gone still as he stared down at his cock, frowning irritably.

Following the Scot's gaze, Price could only grin at the forgotten member. He licked his lips, shivering confidently as he suddenly gripped it with his right hand; the left one holding tightly onto MacTavish's hip. _"You poor thing…"_ He smirked down at the other, his eyes glistening darkly.

_'Bloody fuck! He looks so damn **hot**!'_ Soap groaned in thought, the sight of Price's naughty expression sending a filthy shiver down his spine. "_Dammit, Price! Move **faster…**!"_ He managed to croak out in a hoarse voice.

Price merely laughed, but it was one of those attractive, throaty laughs that always drew in Soap's attention. And indeed it did.

Soap found himself arching into the touch, almost begging for the other to speed up. _"Price!"_ He growled, harshly bringing his hips down, which created a new angle, causing him to cry out again.

Hearing the beautiful sound, Price felt himself shake, immediately increasing the pace, repeatedly hitting the sensitive spot Soap had basically given to him. He gripped tighter at his partner's pulsing flesh as he repeatedly brought his hand up and down the soaked length, bringing some new sounds out of Soap, who was now in complete bliss as he bucked and thrust his hips into the air and back down again. _"Sh-Shite! Price! I'm… oh Christ I can't! I'm goin' t'-" _Soap was cut off when an unfamiliar, muffled sound was wrenched from the depths of his throat.  
It was truly one of the most amazing sounds Price had ever heard! In fact, it was the noise he'd fantasised about, wishing that one day, he would be the cause of such a _sexy _scream!  
Price let out another grunt as Soap proudly took his release, his white fluids flicking up onto the chest above him.

_ That was it. _He could no longer hold on. The sound Soap just made, along with his incredibly _hot_ release pushed him straight over the edge. _"Soap…"_ Price gasped, releasing the younger man's length as he gripped at the thighs that straddled his muscular waist. _"Shit… Soap… you're so… fuckin'… **hot**!" _That was his sign to Soap. And that was the only sign the Scotsman got before Price pulled out and rubbed his erect arousal a few, vigorous times before he released white fluids which splattered up Soap's chest and onto his face. Price's arms went weak and he lost his strength, rolling to the side of his good friend and currently, sexual activities partner.

It took a few moments for both Price and Soap to stop shaking, allowing their bodies to come back to normal senses; their panting heavy and hot. The white fluids were soon washed away by the continuous downpour of water; all evidence of their private doings gone.

Once it was over, Soap lay limp on the floor, his chest rising and falling in desperation for air as he panted with exhaustion. _"I came here to fuckin' wash…"_ He chuckled, allowing Price to help him up, as he couldn't use his hands to push himself up.

"You and me both," Price snorted. He panted a few times, trying to regain his breath before speaking again. He gave his partner a wink. "Are you gonna need some help drying off?"

Soap rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a pick up line t' me. But yeah, actually, I'm not gonna be able t' do eet."

"Shit," Price grunted, pressing his arm to his nose.

"What?" Soap raised a brow, heading to retrieve his towel.

"I smell of your bloody cologne…"

Soap couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's not bloody funny! That stuff smells too _good_ to be _mine_! The others will notice!"

At that comment, Soap felt himself blush slightly. Price liked his cologne? _Awh, __**fangirl **__**moment**__._ The younger soldier winked. "Nah, they won't. And if they do ask, jus' tell 'em ye used _Soap_."

* * *

{{ So I was really reluctant to write this, but I knew I had to, because... yeah. I hope I did okay. Please leave reviews, constructive criticism and just tell what you thought? It means SO MUCH! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews so far, they made me smile! 3 I'll try and upload the next chapter asap. Just as soon as I've written it... :D }}


	5. Heartbroken

{{ Okay wow warning there are so many feels you will probably cry. I got so emotional writin' the bloody thing that I didn't dare read it over, so please excuse any spellin' mistakes... Enjoy...}}

Price slammed a fist against the wooden table, denial and regret gripping him tightly. _"Fuck!"_ He snarled through gritted teeth, shaking his head in refusal.

_Makarov…_

_He couldn't __**believe **__it!_ Soap was gone. _Gone._ Just like _that._ Right before his eyes.

_Knows…_

The older man lifted a hand and rubbed roughly against the back of his neck. Soap's death would not go _un-avenged_. With a sorrowful sigh, Price knew he had to finish his mission. Finish his _war_.

_Yuri…_

Sharply, Price turned on a heel as he sped through the room and towards the back door. "_Yuri!_" He spat, pointing at the exit. _"Open it!"_

Yuri shakily gave a nod before approaching the door, turning the handle. Once open, he turned to face Price, only to meet a fist; straight in his nose!

Price gave a growl, watching as the man fell down the steps that led to the basement, his eyes threatening to _explode_ from his intense glare.

As Yuri hit the bottom, Price began making his way down the steps, and Yuri felt as though he could actually see _steam_ coming from the man's ears.

"_Soap __**trusted **__you!"_ He spat viciously. _"I thought I could too!"_ Pausing, Price admired the blood that glittered across his aching knuckle. _"So why the bloody hell have I been told __**Makarov **__knows you!?"_

Yuri flinched, each shout biting harshly at his sensitive eardrums. "_I was young… and patriotic…when I first met Vladimir Makarov…"_ The Russian explained, drifting off into a story that barely seemed to soothe Price's rage.

Once Yuri had finished speaking, Price scowled. He had no idea how long he'd been stood there listening, but he guessed it was more than five minutes. "Alright, it looks like you've bought yourself some time, _Yuri,"_ Price stated, pronouncing the name as though it was poison.

Making his way up the steps, the Captain was met by nervous eyes, followed by Nikolai, who gripped him by the shoulders. "_Price!"_ Nikolai said, grinning.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you!? There's _nothing_ to be _happy _about!" Price snarled.

"Oh but _Price!_ There _is!_"

The Captain blinked in confusion as he reluctantly followed Nikolai back to Soap's lifeless body. Seeing as they didn't have much time before their hiding place was revealed, Price gave Nikolai a glare, pressing for answers. "Way to make a man feel better…" Although his stubborn face held no expression, it was obvious he was full of sorrow; his pupils diluted, ocean blue eyes touching on a stress of crimson. It looked like he'd seen a ghost, and lost about five days sleep.

Nikolai shook his head, his positive grin never faltering as he pointed to a case that sat on a chair beside Soap's table.

"_That's_ what you wanted to show me?" Price scowled.

"Part of it," Nikolai replied; muscular hands moving to open the thick, black case. As said case was popped open, it made a clicking sound; and although it was nothing but a click, to Price, it was the sound that told him his future.

The case opened, revealing a large syringe, filled with a vibrant, yellow liquid. Nikolai lifted the item and held it up into the light, although Price noticed the firm, almost protective grip the other had on it.

"I'm not a fan of the silence, Nikolai. What the bloody hell is that?"

The Russian merely widened his grin, now approaching Soap's lifeless body.

It was when Nikolai started to manoeuvre the glass syringe into a more… practical position that Price felt himself tense up. Knowing all too well what Nikolai was planning on doing with the sharp item, Price felt something come over him, and the next thing he knew, he was over Soap's dead body, as if protecting, shielding it with his own.

"Price…" Nikolai took a few steps back, staring at the older man. He was more amazed at how _fast_ the man had managed to move, rather than anything else.

"_What the bloody hell are you planning on doing to him?!"_ Price snarled, his stare intense and intimidating. Apparently the crew hadn't heard his and Soap's loving confession and all that… and somehow, none of them were aware of their previous sexual activities, however some were having suspicions from the constant winking, flirting and innuendos the two were passing back and forth like love notes.

"You're not going to believe this…" Nikolai stated, holding the syringe out so that Price could see it. "But you know a few days ago I mentioned I'd brought up some of that… _orb medication?_"

Price gave a swift nod.

"Well, this is it."

The Captain blinked in astonishment; amazed that Nikolai had actually gotten his hands on this mysterious liquid. _God knows where he'd gotten it from…_

Orb medication was one of the rarest and most dangerous chemicals that could be used within the medical field. This was because the liquid was pressed to its very limit, and if made incorrectly, could poison an entire blood stream and kill the person using it.  
However, when used and made correctly, orb medication had the ability to resurrect people. Of course, that sounds completely unrealistic, crazy and impossible, however it actually _did._ The yellow substance was injected into the neck, and travelled through the blood stream, attaching itself to blood cells, multiplying them without any kind of destruction so that blood loss had increased by at least 50%, then the left over liquid headed straight into both the brain and the heart. When the process was successful, the medication acted like a 'life booster' and was so forceful that it actually got the heart beating again. Now, because the heart had been dead for a few moments, the brain would've been starved of oxygen, causing severe memory loss. The only thing the resurrected being would be able to remember was walking, talking, general movement, and all the other processes it had learned to do. However, faces and voices were unrecognisable, and the being wouldn't know who they were, how old they were, where they were, and who any of the people around them were, along with all the other identification processes there were, meaning if Soap was brought back, he'd know how to do everything he used to do, however, he wouldn't know anything about where he worked, why he worked there, who he worked with, etc.

Price found himself placing a hand on Soap's forearm, gripping tightly. "How do you know it's made correctly?"

Nikolai shrugged, not noticing that he was completely blanking the current sensitivity that lurked within his Captain. "Well, I figured that if things went wrong, it wouldn't matter, as he's already dead…"

Hands clenched into fists as Price's gaze dropped to the floor, his expressions dead as he suddenly turned into some kind of zombie.

"_Nikolai_!" One of the men hissed from behind the Russian.

Realising he'd been so rude, Nikolai slapped a hand against his forehead and growled. "Shit, Price… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No," Price said, his voice nothing but a thick, British monotone. "You're right. He's dead."

Knowing there wasn't time to waste, Nikolai shifted uncomfortably as he tightened his grip on the syringe. "Do you give me permission to try?"

The older man slumped more as he slowly walked back over to Soap's body. Gazing down at closed eyes, Price longed for them to just open up and meet his lonely gaze. But he didn't think such a thing could happen. He didn't even believe the Orb Medication would work, as he knew it'd be best not to get his hopes up. He'd be even more distressed and disappointed than before. "Do it…"

With no hesitation, Nikolai pressed the needle into Soap's neck, watching as the glowing fluids were absorbed into the stressed vein that stuck out of the younger man's skin. It didn't take long before the liquid was all gone, and the Russian removed the needle.

Price, who was now visibly shaking, took Soap's hand in his, not caring if the others saw. He frowned deeply, letting out a distressed sigh before turning to Nikolai. "We need to get him back to camp…"

With a nod from Nikolai, Price pressed a finger against the walkie-talkie that sat around his neck. "This is task force 141, requesting that evac…"

"Roger that 141, we are inbound," the pilot replied through the link.

Biting the inside of his cheeks, Price lifted Soap in his arms, praying that something good would come from this. "Move out," he ordered. "Cover us."

Nikolai and Price took the lead, heading through the exit of the building, followed by several members of the rebel group, then Yuri.

Ocean blue eyes glanced down at Soap's lifeless face. The older Captain frowned down at his friend, his partner, his _lover._ "_Please_…" He whispered, biting his lower lip. "_Pull through_."

"141, meet evac at LZ two. LZ one has been compromised. I repeat, LZ one has been compromised!" The pilot spoke through the link.

Price gave a low grunt, attempting to press the button against his neck; although handling Soap at the same time caused it to be a difficult task. "_Roger that…"_ Clearing his throat, Price shouted to both Yuri and Nikolai. "LZ two! I repeat, LZ two!"

The group sped through the deserted area and towards what seemed to be an empty spread of sand and land.

"Perfect…" Price hummed when he spotted the incoming helicopter. It was theirs for sure, which really was brilliant! He quickly glanced down at the body in his arms, letting out another grunt before looking back up at the helicopter as it landed before them.

Nikolai was first to jump into the aircraft, shouting out to the rebels to thank them for their help. He was followed in by Yuri, who clutched at his bloody nose, silent and thinking. Price, however, hesitated as he felt something brush against his thigh. Eyes opened wider, eyebrows lifting as he stared down at the shivering body.

_Shivering._

"Shit!" Price gasped, unable to hold back both the surge of panic that clutched at his lungs as well as the burst of joy that slapped him in the chest.

"Price! Come on!" The pilot urged, knowing it wouldn't take long for the enemy group to find and kill them.

The older man then sprinted to the helicopter, carefully placing Soap on the floor as he climbed in and placed himself in a seat.

Nikolai was concerned that Price hadn't spoken the _entire _trip home. It wasn't usual. He hadn't even struck up a conversation with the pilot like he used to, and any attempt said pilot made to talk to _Price_ was turned down by a tired stare. Gently, he placed a hand on the Brit's shoulder, massaging the tense area, eyeing him cautiously.

At the touch, Price's head snapped up and the glare he gave Nikolai was actually _scary._ If looks could kill… "Get the bloody hell off me…"

Nikolai hesitated before removing his hand, instead, relocating it to the back of his neck where he rubbed nervously. "Price…" He muttered. "I understand you must be feeling like complete shit but-"

But Nikolai was soon interrupted by a laugh. But it wasn't a humorous laugh, or one of amusement. It was rather hysterical; his voice lifting to a higher range as he let the laugh take control of his distressed mind. "What makes you think that?" He giggled, eyes blank and hyper. "_Feeling like shit? Haha, it never occurred to me!"_ The Captain yelled, his behaviour almost drunk.

It was then that he felt something nudge his leg again, and immediately his eyes darted down to the body by his feet. The sudden movement made his head whirr and he felt rather light headed, his vision blurring slightly.

"_Price,"_ Nikolai growled, gripping the man by the shoulders, pushing him back against his seat.

Price let out another growl as he tried to break free of the grip, but alas, he was too weak to do so. The flood of emotions he'd experienced had drowned all strength he had left. Laying limp, Price locked himself onto Nikolai's intense gaze, tiredly staring back.

"_You've __**got**__ to calm down!"_ The Russian warned.

Price just about managed a stubborn nod as he relaxed into his seat. _"I'm sorry…"_ he whispered, slowly closing his eyes. The Captain found himself just about to drift off into a comfortable sleep when he was woken by the sharp voice of the pilot.

"We've arrived," was all the helmeted man said, landing the aircraft just outside the camp's walls.

"_Fuck…" _Price grunted, pushing himself to his feet. The older man climbed out of the door before turning to lift Soap up. Nikolai watched, amazed as the tired man carried his partner through the doors of the building.

"Get a medic!" The Brit ordered, stumbling slightly as he took Soap to the infirmary, laying him on one of the beds. Even if he _was _brought back, he'd probably die again from injuries. Price grabbed Soap's hand, holding it close to his heart, curling himself around it. _"Come on you bastard, I __**can't**__ lose you…"_

As a medic came racing through the doors, Price laid Soap's hand back on the bed as he turned to face the incoming person.

"What happened?" The medic asked, his vibrant, green eyes examining Soap's wounds.

"What the bloody hell does it _look_ like?" Price growled, pointing at his friend.

The man merely met Price's intense gaze, locking on for a few seconds before dropping his sight down to Soap again. "I'll do my best…" Was all he said as he got to work.

Price sneered at the medic. "_You'd better do bloody more than that…"_ he grumbled under his breath before turning and leaving. Oh, he wasn't going to be gone for long though. As if he'd leave Soap _alone_. _By himself._

That was… _if _he even came back.

It had been about five hours since Price had left his partner. An intense, tired, blue gaze swept across the table he was sat at, eyeing the boxes of food scraps that were scattered lazily around the surface. The men that roamed this camp were _litter bugs._ At least, that's what Price thought of them. Even at his _old_ age, Price still found himself capable of getting up to put his rubbish in the _bin_, which sat only a few steps away. Rolling his eyes, Price's eyebrows resorted to once again frowning.

_Old._

The word just didn't sound right in his head. It had to come from Soap's lips for it to possess such a powerful meaning. Otherwise, it was just an insult; an un-amusing one, at that. He hadn't noticed, but he'd chewed his fingernails right down to the nubs of his fingers, the sensitive skin stinging slightly as he tapped said fingers against the solid table.

By now, he was aware that he'd drifted off into some sort of mind stasis that was trying to keep from believing Soap was dead. It was _painful_, actually. Just knowing it, and still being unable to believe it. Although it wasn't so much his _mind_ that didn't believe it, his heart strongly refused, it's outside turning cold to shelter the little heat that remained there.

"_Lost too many men..." _He whispered, his voice hoarse, his throat sore. Price hadn't realized that he'd gone the five hours not saying a _word_, and the lack of communication and speech had obviously dampened his senses.

"_Price…"_

The older Captain blinked at the sudden voice behind him. He _knew _that voice! Bu-but… it _couldn't _be!

"_What, you're not excited t' see meh? I thought you'd miss me a'least a li'le, Old Man…"_

Price did nothing but freeze. _Old man._ Ocean blue eyes glittered with sudden excitement and glee, his heart throbbing so harshly he almost passed out from the pain. Shooting to his feet, the Captain span around, a grin on his face. _"Soap!"_ He gasped, coming face to face with his lover.

Soap wrapped his arms around the Brit, holding him close in a loving embrace. Two muscular, scarred hands reached up, gripping at both sides of Price's jaw; the hold heart-warming.

"I thought you were gone…" Price whispered, his tone almost hurt.

"_I'd never leave ye, Price…"_ The younger Captain whispered back as he leaned in to press soft, kissable lips against Price's.

Wishing the moment would last forever, Price too leaned in to kiss his partner, only to suddenly stop. "Soap?" Price whined, his voice full of concern as his lover started to _disintegrate_ into _nothing_. _"Soap!"_ Then, just like that, Soap was _gone._

"Price?"

Price's head snapped up from the wooden table, his eyes red and sore as he twisted his head, looking to the figure behind him.

"_Christ Price, you look like shit!"_ The Medic stated, raising a brow at the older man.

_It was just the bloody __**medic**__! _

He came to realize that Soap had never actually been there. It was just a figure of his imagination, much to his disdain and disappointment.

"_Thanks. It took me a lot of time to do…"_ Price spat back, his speech slurred from exhaustion.

With a roll of his eyes, the Medic held out his hand, offering it to help Price up. "Yuri said Soap had… made a pass…is this true?"

Much to his dislike, he took the offered hand and was pulled to his aching feet. _Why did __**everyone**__ have to remind him?_ "Yes," he couldn't say anything more than that. It would take too much energy.

"I think you should come and take a look…" The Medic suggested, taking the lead as he made his way out of the Cafeteria.

The woman behind the food counter gave the Medic a wave of thanks, mostly for getting Price to _finally_ leave.

The older Captain would admit, he felt vaguely sorry for the woman. After all, she would probably have to clean the drool that coated the table where Price had apparently fallen asleep. No longer acknowledging any feelings but depression, Price only followed the Medic down the hall; his feet dragging like the paws of a tired bear.

The Medic stopped in the doorway and pointed into the room at the bed Soap's body lay upon. Price continued past the man in white and approached his friend, still frowning. However, his frown soon turned to a gentle smile when he heard the fragile bleeping of the heart monitor, followed by the lax, soft breaths that whispered from Soap's pursed lips. The younger Captain's chest rose and fell to the sound said breaths, just like that of a normal, _living_ human being!

The happiness that suddenly surged through Price caused him to lose the strength in his knees, and he suddenly dropped, hitting the floor hard. But he didn't care. He didn't feel the pain in his legs. _Soap was __**alive**__! _The Orb Medication had _worked!_ That was _all _that mattered. That was _all_ that _ever_ mattered.  
Price felt himself being lifted by someone and placed in the green chair beside Soap's bed. Then a face appeared in front of his, a hand waving back and forth, lips mouthing something, shouting…

"_Price? Price!? Dammit, can you hear me, Price?"_

"_Nikolai!"_ Price grinned, his eyes beaming just as much as his smile was. _"Soap's __**alive**__! Your bullshit __**worked**__!" _The Captain exclaimed, his hands gripping at the boonie hat on his head.

Nikolai couldn't help but feel a weak smile grow on his lips. He'd never seen such an expression on Price. _Never, ever._ "Indeed," the Russian nodded, giving a friendly nudge to Price's shoulder.

"I've done the best I can with his wounds. They will hopefully be healed in a few weeks, if all goes well. He should be waking up anytime soon," the Medic announced quietly. "Although, when he does, everyone is going to need to be extremely calm, relaxed, and quiet. Otherwise the poor lad with panic."

Price shook his head, laughing. "He's a hard bastard, trust me." He then turned his gaze to Soap, his grin falling into a loving smile. _"He'll make it…"_  
The Captain got to his feet, standing over his friend, watching for signs of an awakening. _He couldn't wait!_

Just then, there was a weak flicker in the Scotsman's eyelids. One flicker after another, followed by a few twitches, that soon turned into blinks. Oh how Price had _longed _to look into those _glorious_ eyes again! To feel his lover's touch against his bare skin… his plump lips against his neck…

Wonderful, azure eyes glanced about the room, taking in the current surroundings, scanning over Nikolai and the Medic, before settling on Price's face.

However, Price noticed that there was something missing. No cocky smirk, no mysterious gaze, no _"Hey, Old Man…"_  
Something was wrong.  
What had been an expressive, peaceful gaze soon turned into that of a scared one.

_Soap __**never**__ got scared! _Nervous, maybe, but _never _scared!

"Who the bloody hell are _ye_ lot!?" Soap scowled, his lips pulling back, his teeth gritted with frustration. "Where the fuck _am_ ey!?" His questions were becoming more vulgar and aggressive, and immediately, Price's smile dropped into that of shock, slowing venturing back into the distressed, sorrowful curve.

He'd forgotten what Nikolai had said. He'd never truly thought about the medication, or the effects it would have on Soap. _'Causing extreme memory loss…' _he remembered Nikolai telling him. _"S-Soap…"_ The words stuttered from Price's lips.

The Scot turned his gaze up at Price and he paused, as if thinking about something. He must've sat there, staring at the older man's face for about two minutes before he came back from his racing mind. _"Who the hell is __**Soap**__?"_ He growled, his scowl breaking out once again. _"Who the bloody hell are __**y'**__!?" _

There it was.

The memory loss.  
Right there and then.  
_'Who the bloody hell are __**you**__!?'_  
The angry words were spoken right into Price's face.

Soap _didn't_ recognise him.

Didn't _know _him.

Didn't _**love** _him.

Price's expression fell dead, his skin turning a painful shade of white as he shook his head in utter disbelief. A sharp pain pricked inside his chest, and he flinched, actually _wanting_ to _cry_ as he turned and ran from the room, retreating to his temporary bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him before collapsing to his knees.

The pain in his heart pricked again and he let out an agonised sob.

_**Heartbroken**._


	6. Old Man

{{ Gosh, okay, here's the next chapter. I'm sorry it took a bit longer, I only wrote it about 3 hours ago and have just finished. Class has been busy and rehearsals have been crazy too, not to mention I went to see Adam Lambert and Queen yesterday and didn't get home until about 3am so yeah. Thanks all for being patient. You are rewarded with painful angst and beautiful fluff. }}

"'_E's gone, Price. They're __**all**__ gone…" Soap laughed, pointing a finger at the man who lay collapsed before him. "Ye jus' couldn't save 'em, could y'? Pretty pathetic if y' ask meh. Too much of a pusseh t' save 'em, eh Price? Couldn' cope with teh thought o' riskin' yer own lyfe?" The Scot continued to grin, now looming over Price's shaky figure._

"_I'm sorry…" Price said, his voice barely above a whisper as he gripped at the carpet beneath him. _

"_Sorreh? __**Sorreh?**__ Yu think sorreh is goin' to make up for all yer mistakes? Look Price…" Soap pointed over to the wall, waiting for Price's gaze to follow. However, when no such thing happened, Soap let out a violent snarl as he gripped his Captain's jaw in an almost ghostly palm, roughly bringing Price's gaze up to look where he was pointing. "That's better…" He spat. "Now __**look…**__ Look at them all. How __**sad**__ they were. How __**agonized**__ they were. __**How disappointed they were.**__" Suddenly, an image appeared on the wall. Although this image was more of a mental projection; Price's memories being launched against the wall for a preview, like some __**sick**__ movie. _

_A happy, laughing, smiling Gaz appeared on the wall, his lips moving, yet no sound was produced. Price felt his lips twitch into a vague but thoughtful smile as he remembered his old friend. But his smile soon dropped into an agonised frown as he watched the image turn onto Gaz in a different position, sitting on a road surrounded by exploding vehicles and… and… __**men. **__**Zakhaev **__and his men, to be precise. Price's expression turned sorrowful and sour when he watched Zakhaev place his pistol to Gaz's temple, pulling the trigger. The mental image of the bullet racing through Gaz's skull slowed down, making the viewing more agonizing than it needed to be._

_Then, the image turned onto what looked like smoke. No, there was fire too. There was a hole in the ground and flames were roaring from within. Price raised a brow as he looked into the hole, seeing two figures inside._

_**Two figures.**_

_**Two men.**_

_**Ghost and Roach.**_

_His heart shook, threatening to cease working as he took in every detail of their charred, roasted, __**dead **__bodies. He wanted to look away. He wanted to sob and cover his eyes; but he couldn't. His intense, burning gaze was glued to the invisible screen, stuck there until the end._

"_No!" He tried to shout, yet it only came out as another weak whisper._

"_Yes!" Soap replied, his voice sounding more British now, than Scottish._

"_Why are you doing this?" Price croaked._

"_Because you're worthless, Price!" The younger Captain laughed, delivering a harsh kick to Price's side._

_A sharp pain stabbed him in the rib as he was kicked, but his gaze was still glued onto the screen, his body resistant to move at all._

_Once again, the image on the wall changed. But this time, Price felt his heart truly threaten to explode. Soap was there, laying on his wooden table, gripping onto Price's collar, just as he had before he…before he… passed._

"_It's __**your**__ fault!" Soap insisted._

"_No! It's not!" Price denied._

"_When I was injured, I told you to stop! I told you to patch me up, so I could get back in on the fight! But you refused! You kept going! I could have survived if you'd have fixed me there and then!" Soap declared, his voice fully British now._

"_You're lying!"_

"_Am I?"_

"_Yes you-" Price paused. He thought about Soap's words. He thought __**hard.**__ "Fuck…" He whispered, eyes dull and large as he let out a sharp gasp. "Christ… y-you're-"_

"_Right?" Soap finished, his grin crooked._

_Price managed a small whimper, his head barely managing a nod as he ran over Soap's words. 'It's your fault!' __**Yours. It was your fault!**__ It must've been about seven years since he'd felt a tear against his wrinkled cheek. But he'd broken the time. He felt the liquid slowly, mockingly roll down the left side of his face. "It was my fault…" He whispered._

"_Yes!" Soap agreed, his Scottish accent completely gone. Was he even Soap anymore? Was he __**ever **__Soap?_

_The image on the wall faded, but Price's agonised expression remained imprinted on his face, depressed and full of guilt. _

"_Now you see how worthless you are," Soap spat. "Now you see that it was always __**your**__ fault. That you are a fucking failure. That you are __**nothing**__!"_

"_S-Soap…" Price stuttered, his gaze flicking to the dark figure before him._

"_Don't ever talk to me again. I don't know you. I don't talk to __**disappointments.**__"_

"_Soap… please…" The older Captain reached out, only to get a handful of cold air._

_Soap gave a scowl before hissing "who the bloody hell are __**you**__?" Then, he turned and left__._

* * *

There was a loud knock at the door. "Price? Are you alright? You've…uh-been in there a while…" It was Nikolai.

"_Fuck…" _Price groaned, seeing nothing but darkness. That was until he realized his eyes were closed. Slowly, he blinked an eye open, checking for any danger that might be in the room. Once there was no clear sign of anything, he opened both eyes wide, wincing at the sudden light that hit them. The sun was shining through the one window in his room, filling it with light. After further examination, Price realized that he was in his bed. How he'd gotten there, he wasn't completely sure, seeing as he'd collapsed on the floor when he came in, and didn't remember getting up. _"Whatever…" _he grunted, shaking his head as he pushed himself up from the comfortable mattress. "I'm fine," he announced.

"Are you certain?" Nikolai inquired. "You left Soap in a hurry…"

"_I'm fine,"_ Price snapped, his tone more intense now.

There was a low, unconvinced sigh from behind the door, followed by a long, awkward silence before the Russian's voice could be heard again. "I'll be with Soap if you need anything."

Hearing Nikolai's footsteps fall to silence brought some form of relief to Price as he stared at the wall that he'd dreamed about. What was that all about? Was it even a dream? No, it was a nightmare. But it felt so _real!_  
The older Captain rubbed his eyes and shook his head, groaning as he rolled his shoulders, clicking his spine back into place. He aged both _well_ and _badly_.  
There was no ache in his side after supposedly being kicked, suggesting that it was merely him slowly going crazy. "Didn't know my imagination was such a _wanker…_" He breathed, adjusting his boonie hat before approaching the locked door.  
"Let's get some of that poker face, mate…" He said to himself, catching his reflection in the small mirror that sat on the wall, next to the door. His lips went from a frown to a straight line, perfectly constructed after witnessing years of death, dealings and the impossible.

"There you are…" He spoke, voice low and husky, his British accent thick like it should be. This way, no one would suspect anything was wrong; and most importantly, no one would _ask._

Turning the lock, he listened for the click which triggered a sigh to leave him. Then, he pulled the door handle down and stepped out into the surprisingly cold hallway. Shutting the door behind him, Price stood tall and confident as he made his way towards the injury ward, barely acknowledging the soldiers that he passed. As he reached the door, he passed Yuri who sat in the chair just outside of Soap's recovery room. Raising a brow, Price pushed down all anger that suddenly bit at his mind before approaching the Russian.

"Yuri," he called out, his voice a breathy monotone.

Hearing his voice, Yuri automatically went tense as his gaze snapped over and locked onto Price's.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" The Captain spat, coming to a halt as he loomed over the other.

Yuri sat back in his seat, staring up at the older man with a dead expression; giving nothing but a weak shrug.

"Oh, don't you bloody _shrug_ me!" Price demanded. "It's _your_ fault Soap is in his current condition!"

"_Don't try to blame this on me, Price! You know full well that it was __**your**__ fault. It's not a good idea, trying to find someone else to blame this on," Yuri growled._

"What did you just say?!" Price snarled, losing his concentration as he gripped Yuri by the collar, pulling him to his feet and to his face.

Yuri flinched at the sudden movement, unsure as to why Price was being so _aggressive!_ "I said I _know_ and that I'm _sorry!_"

Price paused, his skilled poker face fading to shock. _What? But- did he just __**imagine**__ what Yuri had said?_

"I don't mean to be _rude_, Sir, but could you please _release _me?" Yuri seethed through gritted teeth.

Without words, Price released the Russian, shaking his head in slight disbelief. "I-uh, sorry, I don't know what the hell came over me…" He admitted, rubbing his forehead.

Dusting the dirt from his shoulders, he unwrinkled his clothes before raising a brow. "Maybe you should get some rest, Sir…"

"Believe me…" Price grunted. "I've had _more _than enough rest…" After experiencing what he _had_ the night before, he didn't think he could 'rest' ever _again. _A silence set in between the two of them, lasting several minutes before Price cut through it, tone sharp and slightly shaken. "If you feel so bad about what you bloody caused-" he paused, feeling his stomach jitter uncomfortably. "-then… why haven't you spoken to Soap yet?"

"Do you want me to be an honest man, Price, or do you want me to be a _soldier?_" Yuri asked.

Price squinted, sighing heavily. "It is always better to be honest, Yuri, but to be a _soldier_ with the _truth_ only pushes you farther."

Yuri nodded. "I-I greatly regret knowing Makarov. I greatly regret being so very patriotic. And I regret having put Captain MacTavish in such danger. However, it was fate who led me to such a position, and although it is I who take the blame, there was never truly any other option. I had no choice…"

Price crossed his arms. "Everyone has a choice, Yuri."

"I know. But that is only when the God's give you one."

"I didn't know you were religious."

"I'm not. Which shows why I get such bad luck, no?" Yuri couldn't help but flick a small smirk on his lips. "If there was a God, I'm sure he would be displeased that I have no faith up there…" He looked up for a moment.

Un-amused by Yuri's joke, Price merely gave a stubborn roll of his eyes before locking onto an intense stare down with the Russian before him. He won, of course.

"I cannot face Captain MacTavish right now Price, I apologize. Although, currently it is not a big deal, seeing as he cannot remember anything…" Yuri trailed off, giving a nod to his Captain before leaving.

Price stood alone for several moments, staring at the ground, captured in a thoughtful trance. Then, with a deep breath, he entered the room.

Just like before, Soap lay on his bed, relaxing (for once), enjoying the company of a smiling Nikolai.

Price frowned. Soap sure was having a nice time without him.

Like he… never existed.

_**It's **_

Quietly, Price made his way towards Nikolai, his gaze doing its best to avoid Soap. Just seeing the smile on his fellow Captain's face brought warm, fuzzy feelings on inside his stomach, threatening to break his cover. Price shook his head, remaining focussed; his expression nothing more than his flat poker face.

"Cap'n Price…" Soap called out, nodding in his direction.

_**All **_

His heart almost stopped. Price's gaze immediately flicked towards Soap's, a smile demanding to push through; however, he resisted. "Captain MacTavish," he returned the nod instead. The older Captain threw a glance at Nikolai, confused as to how Soap knew his name… what with… forgetting and all.

"He's had a lot of things explained to him," Nikolai stated, getting to his feet.

Soap nodded. "If ey remember correctleh from what mey friend here has told meh, my name is John MacTavish, but ye instead call meh Soap, but no one is certain as t' why…"

"Wow, you're an even better listener than I thought you were, mate…" Price smirked. However, his smirk soon faded when he was greeted by Soap's blank, confused expression. Of course… he wouldn't understand Price's humour, as he didn't remember the past…

_**Your**_

Nikolai gave an awkward cough, rubbing the back of his neck. "He knows where he is, who he is, why he's here, and we're working on him remembering who people are. He's not too good with names…"

Soap rolled his eyes. "Ey can guarantee my memoreh is not as bad as y'rs, Old Man," he grinned at Nikolai.

Price quietly choked. _Old man._ Bu-But… That was _his _nickname!  
_Well, it used to be…_

_**Fault.**_

Nikolai's eyes darted over to Price before switching back to Soap, as if to show he acknowledged Price's loud gulp, and that he was sorry.

"Is somethin' wrong?" Soap inquired, looking to Price.

"Wrong? No, nothin's wrong lad," Price denied, shaking his gently.

"Huh…" Soap pursed his lips, shifting slightly.

Nikolai bit his lip in thought before making a clicking noise with his tongue. "I have some business to deal with. Price, would you mind spending some time with Soap?"

Price's gut twisted a thousand times. "Uh…"

"Great, thanks," Nikolai, knowing Price, didn't give him much of a choice as he left the medical room.

Soap found entertainment in a magazine that sat on his side table, occasionally chuckling to himself at some of the images and words.

Price found himself staring at the younger Captain, his lips vaguely curved. Each chuckle and smile Soap gave sent a warm ripple down the Brit's spine. He awkwardly turned his gaze away to the other side of the room when Soap looked up at him.

"Are y' goin' t' sit down then? Or are y' more of a standin' person?" Soap raised a brow.

Price shrugged. "I couldn't say… I have to admit, I'd much rather be runnin' in some sort of marathon…"

The laugh that escaped Soap's plump lips hit Price in the face like a cricket ball. He blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before allowing his satisfaction grip him by the cheeks, causing him to smirk.

"Sit down, Old Man," Soap rolled his eyes, admiring the other's boonie hat.

_Old man._

Price shivered, giving a soft nod as he moved over to the chair at the end of Soap's bed, placing himself in it. The older Captain noticed the slight change in Soap's personality, straight after he'd been called 'Old Man', actually. Did he remember? Or did he just feel bad because it was apparently _Nikolai's new nickname...? _ "So, how are you feeling?"

"Really?" Soap squinted, still smirking. "That's th' best conversation starter ye could think of?"

"It's all I've got," Price shrugged.

"Alright then. Ey've got one."

"Let's hear it then, mate."

Soap eyed the man before him up and down, taking in his companion's appearance before setting his gaze on Price's. Huh, if Soap didn't know any better, he'd say his Captain was… _good looking._ "What's with th' ridiculous hat?"

_Oh, he's going there…_ Price wrinkled his nose, his smirk full of amusement. "What's with the rat on your 'ead?"

Soap paused, raising a brow as he ran a hand over his head. "It's me hair, y' wanker…"

"You should get a better cut," Price hummed, cocking his head slightly.

"What secrets are y' keepin' under that hat of yers?"

Price replaced the smirk with his poker face, leaning forward slightly, as if about to tell a secret.

Soap too tried to lean forwards, bringing the two closer together.

Price felt the distance. He could almost s_mell_ it. Either that, or he smelt of sweat. _"Hair,"_ his smirk was back as he decreased their distance, leaning against the back of the chair again.

The Scotsman chuckled, grinning at the older man's words. "_Really_ now?"

Price also gave a chuckle. Although it was one of the most attractive things Soap had ever _heard_. Or at least, since he'd awoken. Low and throaty, yet gentle and friendly, the younger Captain couldn't help but feel himself drawn to the other. For whatever that reason might be…

Price sighed, smiling to himself as he rubbed a thumb against his bristly chin.

"Tell meh, Price, do ey have a love interest?" Soap inquired, merely curious.

The Brit froze for a moment, the words causing his mind to scream in panic.

"Phew, sorry I was gone for so long… that took longer than expected…" Nikolai interrupted, strolling into the room.

Price's heart jump-started. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and raised his brows. _He'd been there thirty minutes!_ "It didn't feel that long…"

"Time flies when yer havin' fun…" Soap smiled.

The older man merely nodded, his insides fluttering, knowing Soap had _enjoyed_ the time they spent together. _Success!_

"I knew you two would get along just fine," Nikolai stated, making his way over to Price, who was slowly rising to his feet.

_Do I have a love interest...?_  
The question echoed throughout his head, loud and demanding.  
Memories of Soap moaning, groaning, whimpering and begging filled his head, the noises both distressing and arousing him. The memory of them holding hands, of them cuddling, of them kissing…

_**I **_

"Not leavin' are ye, Price?" Soap asked, a touch of disappointment in his voice.

"I-uh-I have some work to catch up on, mate…" Price hummed, adjusting his hat to hide the blush he felt growing.

Soap nodded. "Don't be er… gone fer too long…"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Price replied, smiling.

_**Love**_

The younger Captain shifted in his bed, pursing his lips. "Catch ye later, Old Man."

Price gave a wink. "If you're lucky," he said, voice riddled with tease as he turned and left the room, heading back to his own; his heart and mind both fluttering with thrill.

_Do I have a love interest…?_

_**You.**_


	7. Author Note

I apologise my writing has slow lately and for not uploading in a while, however I have found myself bombarded by workloads and other work such as rehearsals for drama, line learning, along with health issues. I was actually meant to upload a chapter this weekend but my computer decided to mess up and it has had to be sent away for repair, which makes me nervous to no avail, as I don't want to jinx anything, but I am just praying my computer can be fixed, as it has about 5 of my 300 page books on that aren't saved on anything else and I am finding myself franticly panicking about the current situation. Please cross your fingers and pray that my work stays safe and my computer can easily be fixed, that would be much appreciated, and I'll get the next chapter updated ASAP. Thanks.


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